A Smile and a Compliment
by AutumnSunLight
Summary: Three times Grant Ward has give Skye a smile and a compliment. Canon through 2x01 with my own twist.


_A/N: This was inspired by a gif set that I couldn't get out of my head. The dialogue is Canon, everything else is my own imagination._

"Every decision you make from here on out has consequences, so be warned," his hand is on his chin, eyes serious, "the kid gloves are off.

I smirk, undaunted, and confidently proclaim "G7."

Ward closes his eyes seemingly in pain. "Hit."

"Yes," I wave my ring-bound fists triumphantly and hum out a little _ha ha ha_. But I am confused. We have gone from punching bags at o'six-hundred to kiddie games and chocolate covered peanuts in street clothes. "So, explain to me again what this has to do with my training," I ask, taking some of said snack out of the bowl.

Ward pauses, seeming to weigh his answer. "It's important for every SO to," here he sighs and gestures vaguely with his right hand, "evaluate their student's thought process. And I like board games. B10."

But I happen to disagree. And I tell him so. "No, this isn't thinking," I tartly inform him, "this is stabbing in the dark, but it's nice to take a break from the work outs."

"Ah, you deserve a break. I gotta give Coulson credit, I never would have pegged the next Rising Tide hacker as a good fit, but you're picking things up pretty fast."

I am shocked. Completely and totally shocked. "Did you just give me a compliment?" I put my hand on my chest, trying to feel if my heart is still beating after the stunning surprise that it has just been delivered.

Ward tries to back-pedal. "I - no, I made a comment."

I'm not letting him off the hook that easily. "A kind one," I point out. He raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth to contradict but I beat him to it. "Did it physically hurt to do that?" I ask, then decide to push a little further, and lean towards him. "Do you need an ice pack?" He smiles at me. A real, genuine, comfortable smile, maybe not the first smile I have seen out of him, but the best. "Wow! A compliment and a smile." I won't tell him, but my day is made. He has a great smile. Grant Ward should smile more often. Specifically, at me.

"Comment" Is all he says, but he's still smiling.

"I don't want to ruin the moment," and I really don't, "but I'm going to have to respond with…G4." His brow slowly furrows, then his mouth purses, realization slowly dawning. "Say it Ward." I lean forward. Repeat myself louder. "Say it."

"You sank my battleship," he says monotonously.

I grin, laughing, and fist-pump the air. "Yes."

"Alright," he says, "best two out of three."

"I beat you," I gloat.

I can see her laying in the hospital bed as I walk up, but she looks so much better this time. This time she is sitting up, and Simmons is actually talking _with_ her, instead of just babbling _to_ her; as I get closer, I can see her color is coming back. But I still get a pit in my stomach every time I look at her. It is his fault she is laying in the bed, his fault she almost died, and that is just not right. He knew…he knows…

The rage of the Berserker Staff vibrates through my thoughts, as one particularly unsettling idea surfaces yet again. _Is it somehow my fault?_

I knock. "Hey, is this a bad time?"

She looks up and tries to pull herself up in bed. I try not to wince. "It is if you're here to bust me out," she says and pins Simmons with a look before effecting a British accent. "The warden has extended house arrest." She finishes with a pleading look in my direction and I try not to look like too much of a push-over.

"Ugh," Simmons grumbles, "awful accent," as she leaves the hospital pod.

"Mmh," Skye hums, "I must look terrible." She is scrubbing her small hands over her face, but when she finally drops them, my first though is I've never seen anyone more beautiful. "Simmons won't even bring me a mirror."

Good thing too. If I know one thing about Skye after all the work-outs I've put her through, it is that she doesn't like it when her hair is a mess. And her hair is not how she likes it. "I've seen worse," I settle for telling her, feeling the edges of my mouth kicking up traitorously.

She fish-faces me. "Wow, thanks." Her tone is taken aback, and getting its passport stamped at the border of Offended.

Quickly backtracking, I clarify, "I just meant you look better than when you were dying."

Now she grins. And I know the grin; it means she has a quippy, possibly snarky comeback in mind. I brace myself, glad she's her to verbally wound me, feeling well enough now to spare with me at least with her words. "Swinging and missing, Ward," she tells me acerbically, but with a sweet tilt to her head and a small smile on her face.

"It's great to see you. Better." I'm full-on grinning now, and I don't care, the Berserker's rage and my questions quieted for these few moments with her.

Shadows [2x01]

"There's an inertial confinement laser barrier down there," the agent assures me, but then he tells me it's cool, and I am taken aback. Nothing about this is cool. He continues. "Now this button turns it soundproof. This button makes it opaque."

I am nervous and inpatient and worried. "Just tell me there isn't an "off" button I can accidentally hit."

The agents promises I'll be safe, and I force myself to unlock the door. It beeps and I open it while energy hums as a light snaps on. My eyes are immediately on Gra-Ward, standing in the middle of the area cordoned off by the laser barrier, blinking like he hasn't seen light in…but that can't be right. But the lights did just turn on when I opened the door. Are they keeping him in the dark?

It takes him the time it takes me to get down the stairs to seemingly adjust to the light and speak.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes." I feel like I've been sucker punched. The rush of warmth his compliments always came with…but he's still talking. "I told Coulson weeks ago that I was willing to speak to you to give you intelligence." Weeks ago? "Why now? Something bad happen?"

I don't give away anything I don't have to. This man was a Hydra sleeper agent I remind myself. He lied to Coulson. Our whole team. _Me_, a tiny voice whispers that sounds a lot like May. "Carl Creel. Garrett reported him dead. Turns out he's alive. Do you have any information on that?" I bite it out.

"How have you been?" He asks. I pin him with my best May impression, clenching my jaw to keep from speaking. Finally he says, "The name sounds familiar. Do you have a picture?" He steps closer to the laser barrier as he asks, and it crackles as he gets to close. I glance over him to see if he was hurt, old habit, and for some reason my eyes are drawn to his bare arms. His newly scared arms. I stare, unable to help myself.

He looks down. "Coulson didn't tell you. I went through a rough stretch. First pair of pants they gave me had a…a button on the back," he stutters, something I have never heard Ward do, then gestures for the button and its use. "They took that away. But," he says, and I try not to flinch. I shouldn't be listening to this, shouldn't be letting him talk about anything but Cree. May wouldn't stand for it. But I stand transfixed before the man I used to love, the first man I felt really, truly safe with, and cannot help but want to know what he has become. "You fold a piece of paper just right, it gets sharp," Now he lifts his hair off his forehead, and I can't imagine what he is going to tell me next. "When they took that away, I started running at the walls."

And suddenly I'm fuming. Furious at his betrayal, livid that he didn't care enough about me to own up to it, wrathful that he decided to just give up once Garrett was out of the picture.

And in that moment, I am not just May's student; not someone you could call her prodigy or mistake for her daughter. I am Melinda May. "You should have run faster," I spit, completely shut down.

"I'm through all that," Ward calmly tells me. _Then why the sob-story_, I wonder. "When I came out of sedation, I was clear-headed, accepting of who I am, what I've done, and why." _Humpf._ We'll see about that. But he's not done. "Your arms tell a different story. I see May's training you," he peers at my left arm closely. "She's got you favoring your left side first, 'cause you're right-handed. Smart."

I am simmering, and then I boil over. "I'm going to say this once. I'm not going to believe a word that comes out of your mouth. But if a single word is about anything other than the question that I'm asking, I walk."

He puts his hands up in submission. "Okay. Creel was a boxer, nicknamed the Crusher. Turns out any opponent has a glass jaw when you have steel fists under your gloves. Garrett thought he'd be an asset. Now, once Creel touches a substance, he can absorb it and somehow consciously transform the molecules of his body into that substance. He wouldn't tell us how, but he enjoys the way it feels almost as much as he enjoys killing."

"You two must have gotten along great," I snarked. "Well, this was fun but pointless. We've already figured that stuff out, so if you don't know where to find him, then-"

"Wait," he cuts me off, desperate. "When Hydra was communicating with S.H.I.E.L.D., we'd use white noise in the gaps between S.H.I.E.L.D.'s quantum key distribution channels to hide messages. Now, S.H.I.E.L.D. might be gone, but not those frequencies. If Hydra is giving commands to Creel, that'll be how."

"We'll see," I say, not overly optimistic and turn to go, having what I came for and so, so much more.

"It's true, and so will be every word I say to you for the rest of my life," he vows to my back, and I still. The allure of the promise is strong. The memory of all his past compliments came rushing back the second he paid me one today, helped along by the fact that for some stupid, idiotic reason that rush of warmth ran over my head, down my shoulders and pooled in the pit of my stomach the exact same way it always had, never mind the fact he is now a Hydra…ex-Hydra…a traitor, and not the heroic if anti-social specialist he was every other time. "I'm not asking for forgiveness," he continues, oblivious to my inner struggle. "I just want to help you. And when that information proves true, I hope you'll come back," he says and I just can't take it anymore. Come back? This time was plenty, thank you very much. And yet, I have no doubt Director Coulson will be sending me down here again. "There's so much I want to tell you about…" I punch a button on the tablet and a white, soundproof wall pops up between us, silencing my former SO.

_A/N: Drop me a review and let me know what you think!_


End file.
